


The Bucky Horror Picture Show, or The Comedy of Arrows Halloween Special!

by LizzieHarker



Series: A Comedy of Arrows [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: A Comedy of Arrows, Arrowsverse, Blowjobs, Clint Barton looks damn good in drag, Costumes, Gen, Halloween, Halloween Special, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Steve Rogers, Poor Sam, Public Sex, RHPS, Rocky Horror Picture Show - Freeform, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 08:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12577960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzieHarker/pseuds/LizzieHarker
Summary: Steve Rogers, aka (formerly) Captain America, hasn't really adjusted to 21st Century living. It's not really his fault, what with the untested medical experimentation, a war, getting frozen for 70 years, and waking up to find himself in the future after, basically, the worst nap ever.Steve's had a rough time. Steve's also not very good at fun. Bucky, aka The Winter Soldier, aka, his boyfriend, keeps trying to encourage him.When Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye, shows up in full-force drag, branishing a bag of costumes, well . . .Well, Steve's in for a little more than he bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

Steve settled onto the sofa, tucking himself against Bucky’s side. The bucket of candy they’d bought sat on the table, but they didn’t get many trick-or-treaters, the few kids in their building too little to be out late. Buck had given the one kid dressed as Captain America an extra handful of candy, and Steve pretended not to notice. Sap. Now it was time for horror movies and an excuse to be as close the man he loved as possible. Not that Steve needed an excuse; Buck had always been more than accommodating. Steve nuzzled into Bucky’s neck, smiling against his skin as Buck drew him closer. Bucky’s finger crooked beneath his chin, and Bucky pressed his mouth over Steve’s. Steve sighed into it, tasting chocolate and warmth and absolute adoration. He wondered how much love his heart could take, already overflowing.

The front door rattled. For a moment, Steve prayed it wasn’t another handful of kids, but the sound registered as a key in the lock, and that heralded the arrival of only one other person.

Clint posed in the doorway, one arm pressed over his head against the frame, hip cocked, offsetting the multicolored sequined corset and stripped booty shorts, his long legs covered in fishnet stockings. A gold sequin tophat perched on his bubblegum pink hair, an equally glittery red bow tied around his neck. The black and gold jacket, somehow, pulled it all together. The jerk was tall enough as it was, but the glittery tap heels lent him a couple extra inches. The blue eyeshadow, red lipstick, and striking red contour put the whole look over the edge.

Those painted red lips quirked into a smile. “You thought I was the candy man?”

Buck sat forward, shaking with laughter. “I’m a bit strung out by the way you look. Can’t decide if I’m concerned or turned on, bro. Little of both. Ain’t mad about it, either way.”

Clint arched a brow; that’s when Steve noticed the bag Clint held in this other hand. He gave it a little swing, setting it into motion. Steve was in deep shit trouble. He swallowed as Clint sauntered in, closing the door behind him with his heel. 

“I feel a change,” he said, voice higher pitched, dropping the bag in Bucky’s lap. “Why don’t you go see what tricks I brought you while I fix up your blond man with a tan?”

Bucky snorted, picked up the bag, and pressed a kiss to Clint’s cheek. “He’s tan enough. Golden, even.” He ruffled Steve’s hair. “Go easy on him.”

“It’s too nice a job to rush,” Clint answered with a wink.

Steve could definitely outpace Clint in heels. Well, with Clint wearing heels. Maybe? Oh god. With Buck gone, Steve received Clint’s undivided attention. By some miracle, he made that blue eyeshadow look good.

“Got me all to yourself for now, Steve.”

“Uh, what are you planning?” Damn it, he sounded nervous. It was just Clint. His posture was relaxed, inviting, and Steve had the sense that whatever Clint had in store would be a thrill. But Clint and Buck had a habit of attracting—creating—trouble.

Clint fluffed out his tailcoat and plopped on the coffee table, stealing a lollipop from the bowl. “We’re having a little party tonight. Celebrate the season,” he explained, unwrapping the candy slowly. “I’m here to get you boys ready.” He reached up to smooth Steve’s hair, tongue lapping at the bright red sucker. Oh, this looked bad. 

Steve shrank back. “You . . . are gonna get us ready?”

“Mmhmm. Starting with these lovely blond locks of yours.” With a flick of his wrist, Clint materialized a bottle of bleach and a comb.

“You don’t have to,” Steve protested, heart pounding. “I can do my own hair. It’s fine.”

Clint’s expression softened. “Promised Buck I’d take care of you, didn’t I? It’s gonna be fun. Have I ever let you down when it comes to fun?”

No, he hadn’t. And Steve had made a promise to try more, to get to know Clint, to open up. Steve relaxed a bit. “All right. Wait. You’re dyeing my hair?” 

“Lightening it up a bit. You can dye it back later.”

Apprehension colored Steve’s world. No way this was a good idea. “Clint, do you know what you’re doing?”

“Of course, I do!” Clint looked genuinely affronted. “Some people would give their right arm for the privilege.”

“Okay, Clint,” Steve said, immediately regretting the words the second they left his mouth. “Let’s do it.”

 

*

Steve had his head bent over the sink, Clint’s skilled fingers washing the bleach out of his hair (and damn, did Clint give one hell of a scalp massage), when the bedroom door opened. Steve couldn’t see Bucky’s costume, but he heard the familiar tread as he passed by and into the living room.

“Oh, Bucky,” Clint said, and the tone struck Steve as something he should know, but couldn’t quite place. Clint turned off the tap and dropped a towel over Steve’s head, turning him so Bucky remained out of sight.

“C’mon, Clint, I wanna see,” Steve whined. 

“When I’m done,” Clint said, combing Steve’s hair down. 

Clint left it that way, and Steve frowned. “Clint, my hair hasn’t been this bad since 1925. Or just after they pulled me outta the ice.”

Despite the lipstick and rouge, Clint’s irritation shone through. “Let me do my job, Steve. This shouldn’t take seven days to finish.” 

It was a truth universally acknowledged that patience was not a virtue Steve possessed, so he went with the next best response: he pouted. Clint rolled his eyes, nearly losing a false lash in the process, and at last shuffled Steve off toward his bedroom. He caught a glimpse of Bucky on the couch, the devilish smirk that normally made Steve’s heart race curving his plush lips. 

Normally, because this time it left Steve with a feeling of unnamable dread.

Still, Buck ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth and Steve’s blood went hot. “I see you shiver with antici-“

He let Clint shut his bedroom door, wanting to be out in the living room instead of having to change. Steve picked Bucky’s discarded clothes off the floor and dropped them in the laundry bin before turning to his attention to the bed. 

Now, Steve had his “aw, shucks,” old-fashioned gentleman routine down to an art; he knew how to use it to his advantage, how to deflect or diffuse. Some might get the wrong impression and assume the serum made him all brawn and no brain, despite being a master tactician. Steve was a lot of things people didn’t usually expect, but he wasn’t an idiot, and the moment he saw the gold lamé shorts and matching shoes set out—and nothing else—he knew _exactly_ what was happening.

Fuck that.

He needed to _get out_. 

As said master tactician, Steve knew he’d never escape unseen. He briefly entertained exiting from the bedroom window, but the lack of balcony made that more trouble than he wanted. Front door, then. Shoulders back. Head up. No force on Earth could make him put on that costume (could it even be _called_ a costume? That would be fucking _generous_ , considering) and he wanted no part in the Clint and Bucky show. Fuck, had Buck planned this? Had he known?

Steve slipped out of the bedroom, swiping his keys off the table as he went.

Bucky laughed from the sofa, and damn it, but Steve couldn’t help glancing over. Buck had his hair in hot rollers, and Clint leaned toward him, his thumb moving against Bucky’s lower lip, Buck’s mouth softly open. A drape hid Bucky’s chosen costume. By the glimpse of lipstick (Clint was blending, not flirting; okay, he’d probably flirted, too), Steve damn well knew he’d been right.

Evasive maneuver, Rogers. Gah, how had he overlooked Clint’s ridiculous getup? Kitchen to the front door, easy as apple pie. “I just remembered, there’s another wave of kids coming around,” Steve said, cutting through to make his exit. “I’m running out for more candy.” 

Neither of them tried to stop him as he reached the door. Clint barely paused his ministrations to blow Steve a kiss.

He couldn’t be sure he’d closed the door all the way before he speed-walked down the stairs and out onto the street. Smooth, Steve. Real smooth. He needed to regroup and most importantly, to hide the fuck out until Halloween ended. As much as he loved Bucky, as much as he loved Bucky embracing this century and finding himself and finding friends, as much as he liked Clint, Steve wanted no part of whatever nightmarish musical-gone-wrong Clint had in mind. Buck could run wild and untamed with his best friend and Steve would spend a quiet evening hiding out with his. His snipers could paint the town in red glitter.

He’d run to Sam.

*

Steve didn’t linger on the stoop when Sam answered the door, bustling in and heaving a sigh of relief as it closed behind him. “Thank god.” 

Stable, stalwart Sam. He’d let Steve lay low, not say a word if Buck and Clint came looking for him. He could breathe easy for the moment.

Sam blinked at him. “Hello to you, too, Steve.”

“Sorry, I know I should have called.” He pressed his back to the wall, closing his eyes. Hell, he should stopped off for that bag of candy; Sam wasn’t above bribery. Too caught up in a successful escape, Steve nearly missed the second person joining them.

“You aren’t sorry yet, Rogers,” Natasha said, and Steve opened his eyes to find her standing before him wearing a maid’s costume, curling red hair teased out, a wicked grin on her pale face as spun a familiar pair of gold lamé shorts on one finger.

Sam’s hand gripped his shoulder, and Steve realized Sam wore a ratty butler’s outfit. Oh no. This was not happening tonight. Of course, Clint knew he’d run to Sam. Okay, okay, all he had to do was get back outside. With all of New York opened before him, he could easily camp out for a night. He even could leave the state; it wasn’t like he couldn’t get off the island. 

New plan in mind, Steve backed away. 

Any thoughts of escape died when he opened the door.

Bucky stood in his way, lower lip pinched between his teeth, thumb hooked into the pearls around his neck. Somehow the bastard made the green surgical gown and pink gloves look good. Clint leaned against the opposite side, blocking his exit.

“-Pation,” Bucky said, eyes bright beneath eyeshadow and liner. 

Sam glanced between Clint and Natasha. “You mean he’s . . .”

“Uh huh,” Natasha answered.

Steve flushed. No fucking way. “C’mon, guys. No. I got no issue with group costumes, but I’m not gonna be Rocky. Why can’t I be Brad?”

Sam sighed, his tone betraying that he’d asked the same question. “No Janet, dammit.”

Clint and Buck entered Sam’s apartment, and Buck locked and bolted the door. Clint tapped his hat down.

Bucky draped his arms around Steve’s neck, brushing his nose against Steve’s cheek. “Now, baby, don’t you panic. It’ll all be all right.”

Heat spread down his neck and over his chest. No. Not even for Bucky. “But . . . I can’t, Buck. I’m Captain America.”

“I don’t want no dissension—“ Buck started.

“I’m an icon. There’s not way I can walk around New York half-naked-“

“More than half,” Clint chimed in.

Steve huffed out a breath. “Kids are dressing up like me! I have to be a role model and I can’t—“

Sam crossed his arms. “You’re a fugitive from justice, now get in the damn sparkly shorts,” he snapped, exasperated.

Steve failed to stifle the high pitched whine that escaped him as Buck steered him toward Sam’s bathroom, taking the shorts from Natasha on the way. The moment the door shut, Bucky’s hands breeched Steve’s shirt, rubbing up and down his ribs. 

“Clint promised this lipstick was smudge proof once it set,” he whispered, breath hot against Steve’s ear. “Wanna test it out? I sure as fuck don’t need seven days to make you a man.” 

Steve shoved Bucky’s hands away, pulling his shirt back down and crossing his arms. “No.”

Bucky let his arms drop, his teasing replaced by concern. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t wanna do this. No one asked me.”

“Every time we ask you, you say no.”

“So you thought ambushing me with this would get me to say yes?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Look: I didn’t know about Clint’s plan. He didn’t offer me a choice, either, just grabbed my leg and strapped these platform heels on me.”

Steve glared. “You go along with anything he does.”

“Yeah, because Clint’s a lot of fun.” Bucky gentled his tone. “Stevie, you’re always jealous when you think you’re being left out, but every time we ask, you turn us down. Can’t have it both ways, sweetheart.”

“I am not going,” Steve bit, knowing he sounded petulant.

With a sigh, Buck flicked the shorts at him and turned on his heel. “Suit yourself. Stay here and be alone and boring, but don’t you come crying to me when you regret this choice.” The door snapped shut behind him.

“He’s not doing it,” Clint said from outside the door.

“'Course he’s not.” Buck didn’t hide his disappointment. “So either we’re down Rocky or I convince you to squeeze your fine ass into those shorts.”

Clint scoffed. “My ass looks damn fine in these, thank you.” He paused; Steve heard Clint drum his fingers against the wall. “Ya know Frankie and Columbia had a thing. Could play off that.”

“Wouldn’t mind pawing at you all night,” Buck answered.

Steve clenched his jaw. On the long list of his personality traits, jealous landed at the top near impatient. Buck, of course, had been right: Steve hated being left out. In fact, the only thing he hated more involved admitting (to himself, at least) his complex when it came to Clint. Specifically: how easy Clint felt. And how Bucky had adjusted to this new world just the same. And how neither of them gave a damn what anyone thought.

And with as in-character as Clint already was . . .

He glanced at the gold shorts.

Steve knew Buck loved him. That didn’t stop Steve from thinking that maybe Buck deserved better. He’d never quite gotten over Buck wanting him as much as he’d wanted Buck, couldn’t quite believe it was real, back then or now. 

“Well, if he’s not coming, let’s go,” Clint said. “I’m directing, and the show must go on.”

Steve opened the door. Bucky still stood close by. He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s chest, hiding his face in Bucky’s neck.

The brunet leaned into him. “Change your mind?”

He nodded. “I wanna go.”

Fingers laced through his hair, warm and gentle. “You want me to help you get dressed?”

Steve nodded again, and Bucky turned him around. “Okay.”

Back in the bathroom, Bucky made short work of Steve’s shirt and pants—plying him with kisses certainly didn’t hurt. Bucky pulled the gold shorts over Steve’s ass and snapped the band before grabbing a handful and squeezing. “I know there’s no use getting into heavy petting until much later, baby, but I’ve tasted blood and I want more.” He guided Steve’s hands to his waist, letting him feel the corset underneath. “I’ll need a friendly hand taking all this off, if you’re willing to volunteer.”

Even with all that attention, with Bucky’s reassurance, Steve felt uneasy. He slipped his arms around Bucky and held fast. “How come I have to be so naked?”

“Because you were literally a 98-pound weakling who got sand in his face, and now you’re strong man with a strong chin and abs for days and I wanna show you off. That, and Clint thinks it’s a fucking hilarious to tempt me to keep my hands to myself. Which is why I’m Frank. Because clearly I cannot do that with all that skin on display.” Bucky cupped a hand to Steve’s face, staying close. “You gonna tell me what’s really going on with you?”

Steve hunched his shoulders, crossing his arms over his chest. He hated feeling exposed. “All dressed up and no where to go,” he said on a sigh. “I’m at the start of a pretty big downer.”

“Nah, babydoll, I got you.” Bucky tilted Steve’s chin up, pecking him on the lips. “What’s the matter?”

“I,” Steve started, pressing himself into Bucky’s space. “I’m very naked and I’m worried people are gonna laugh at me.”

“Oh, Stevie.” Bucky wrapped Steve up, rubbing circles against his back. “Those guys out there? They’re your friends. We’re all doing this together. None of them are gonna laugh at you and who the fuck cares of anyone else does? You’re gonna be out with us—with me—and we’re gonna have a great time. Besides,” Bucky said, moving back and picking up the hem of his surgical gown. Beneath, he wore the infamous fishnets and black satin undies. He dropped the gown and turned, granting Steve a peak at his ass through the open back of the green material. “You get all this when we’re done.”

To his credit, Steve tried not to blush, considering there’d be no hiding it. Bucky offered Steve his arm, and when Steve took too long, grabbed Steve’s instead. “Let go a little. You’ll have a good time.”

Cheers met him when they emerged. It took all of Steve’s willpower not to cover up again. 

Bucky clasped his hands and beamed. “Oh, I just love success.”

Natasha stared at Clint. “A credit to your genius.”

Clint bowed, doffing his hat. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “He’s okay.”

“Okay?” Bucky glowered. “Okay?! I think we can do better than okay. Clint?”

Clint straightened, his gaze raking over Steve. He shimmied his shoulders a little. “Took me by surprise, but I’m all shook up now.” He beamed, slipping an arm over Nat’s shoulders. “Shall we get this floor show on the road?”

“Wait, we’re leaving the house?” Steve said, eyes wide in horror. Sure, the people in this room had all seen him in various states of undress, but . . . going out was a level he wasn’t ready for. 

But Buck had said as much, hadn’t he?

Natasha smiled. “Don’t worry, Rogers. No one’s gonna be looking at your face.”

“Don’t get hot and flustered,” Clint said. He tightened his bow tie, tugged his jacket straight, and chucked Steve below the chin. “I know it’s not easy having a good time, but I promise I’ll put a smile on that pretty face before the night’s over.”

Steve glanced at Bucky, who inclined his head. He’d committed. There was no getting out of this. 

Not for the first time, Steve wished he could get drunk.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint’s easy gait and bright grin opened more doors than Steve imagined. People moved out of their way, charmed by his presence. They were all seated at the bar (well, Steve was seated; Clint stretched across two chairs like he owned the place, and judging by the way strangers deferred to him, he might as well), a precursor to whatever Clint had planned. When Steve asked, Clint only smiled and said something about removing the cause and not the symptom. Whatever the hell that meant.

He envied the other blond a little: Clint wore confidence as well as his platform heels and nothing deterred him from getting what he wanted. No wonder Buck liked him so much. The thought made his heart hurt. Of course, he nearly fell out of his chair a second later when Clint dropped his arms across his and Bucky’s shoulders, grinning like mad, a bottle in each hand.

Bucky’s face lit up. “Is that Everclear?”

“Like I’d fail to give you some terrible thrills?” Clint answered.

Turning, Bucky took Clint’s face in both hands and pulled him in for kiss. 

Okay, Steve revised, more than a little envious.

Clint smiled harder. “Now, now, you’ll muss my lipstick.” He blew Buck a kiss, leaving the bottles beside each of them. “Enjoy it. We’re all lucky tonight.”

Bucky reached over the bar and plucked two shot glass from behind the counter, sidling up to Steve as he pour them each a drink.

“It’s no good, Buck,” Steve said, mentally debating what it would take to talk his partner into taking him home.

“It’s plenty good,” Buck drawled.

“Can’t get drunk, remember?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You can’t get drunk. I can’t stay drunk. But this shit’s 190-proof and we can sure as hell appreciate a nice buzz. C’mon, it’ll warm you up.” He leaned into Steve, nuzzling his neck. “Take a shot, Stevie.”

Steve picked up the shot glass but didn’t drink.

“Apprehensive, baby? Yeah, bet it’ll burn something awful. Remember that time we got into my pop’s liquor stash?”

“I didn’t get to taste it before the smell sent me coughing,” Steve answered. Maybe he didn’t wish he could get drunk.

“Didn’t get a chance to know what it’s like, huh?” Bucky said, voice soft. “Before.”

And no, Steve hadn’t. There been so many things he hadn’t done before, before the war, before the serum, before the train . . . And after the train, Steve had _tried_. He hated the taste, the smell, the memory. But Bucky sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder as he’d been a dozen times before. And after. 

There’d been an after. 

And a now. Bucky sat beside him _now_ , offering a drink and a chance for Steve to relax. And Bucky, being Bucky, being Steve’s heart and his better half, knew what he’d been thinking as he jostled Steve’s shoulder and cupped his face and said, “Let go, Steve.”

He tossed back the shot, the burn worse than he imagined, and coughed. 

Bucky giggled, holding him close. “Maybe something sweeter?”

Steve nodded as Bucky took his shot, then motioned the bartender over. He didn’t hear what Bucky ordered, pouring himself another shot of Everclear and tossing it back. Nope, still awful. The bartender set a pale yellow drink front of Bucky, the rim edged in sugar. “I thought we were doing shots.”

“We are,” Bucky said, flicking his tongue against the glass before tipping his head back.

“Where’s mine?” 

That earned him a devilish smirk as Bucky curled a hand around the back of Steve’s neck, slotting their mouths together. Bucky barely parted his lips, and Steve felt himself flush, the taste of lemon and sugar flowing into him. He swallowed, taking the shot from Bucky’s mouth. His fingers threaded through Bucky’s hair, sticky from god knew how much hairspray, content to kiss him until his heart stopped. 

Bucky pulled back, but only far enough to press another kiss to Steve’s cheek. “See? S'good to let go.”

“Y’all are gross,” Sam said. He took a long swig from his beer and turned back to Natasha and Clint.

Steve giggled against Bucky’s skin, a pleasant tingle overtaking his nerves. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe it was the alcohol, but dammit, he could pretend. For all he knew, it was; maybe all it had taken was him drinking it from _Bucky._

Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes. The locks of his stringy wig stuck to his lip and he sputtered, swiping at them. “Your levels of PDA are astounding. Ugh, why’d I have to be Riff-Raff, man?”

Clint bubbled over, nothing dulling his shine. “Because Natasha is Magenta and I figured you’d wanna pair up. Plus, we still don’t have a Janet.”

“Dammit.” Sam hunched his shoulders, cradling the rest of his beer.

Natasha giggled, reaching for Clint’s hands. Steve watched them press their palms together, arms sliding up to the elbow and back. He’d only seen this movie once, and it was still fucking weird. Apparently, they did live versions of this with ritualistic flare. 

“Aw, don’t be sucha downer,” Clint chided, wrapping his arms around Natasha. “We gotta’nother journey to take on this night out.” He tapped the tip of Sam’s nose. “It’s a night you’re gonna remember.”

“For how long?” Bucky asked, raising the bottle and taking a long drink.

Clint shifted to Sam, turning Sam’s face toward his. “For a very long time.”

*

The line outside the club stretched for three blocks and down an avenue. Steve felt the gazes of strangers roaming over him, and despite the amount of Everclear he’d downed, his confidence waned. Bucky kept a protective arm around him, pulling Steve close by his side. His heart pounded at the thought of waiting, outside, mostly naked, but Clint kept walking, the road his runway, to the bouncer at the head of the line.

“Clint-lumbia, what’s your plan?” Sam asked. “Where are we?”

“Well, this isn’t the Junior Chamber of Commerce, Sam,” Clint answered, turning his glitter and gleam on the bouncer.

The man smiled, inclining his head. “Hey, man.”

“Hey, yourself.” Clint’s mouth lifted into half a smile.

The bouncer unhooked the red velvet rope and ushered Clint through. He paused on the stair. “Well? Come along. I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Steve felt Bucky’s fingers slip between his. He’d follow that man anywhere. And Buck had brought what was left of the liquor. The moment he stepped into the club, he cursed his apparent gift of pre-cognition. A stage sat at the front of the room and the music sounded from the speakers. Clint had said they were getting the _floor show_ on the road . . .

He heaved a sigh of relief when Clint lead them not to the stage, but to a raised seating area with its own bar. VIP status had its privileges. The lights dimmed as the music changed, the well-known chords drawing everyone’s attention. Clint’s grin spread. 

“So, who’s joining me on stage?”

Natasha laughed, shook her head, and dragged Sam off to the dance floor. Clint turned that feral grin on Bucky, but Bucky tucked Steve’s head beneath his chin. “I don’t think we’re ready for all that. I can walk in heels, but not dance. Arm unbalances me,” he said. 

Clint sighed dramatically (because of course he did) and patted Steve’s cheek. “Enjoy from afar, then.”

Cuddled up with Bucky, Steve _did_ , watching the actors perform while the movie played behind them. He even—Bucky could hardly contain his gasp—participated. Steve didn’t know all the queues and responses, but he tossed his handful of rice, and put a newspaper over his head, all with his best guy grinning beside him. When Steve stood up for The Time Warp, Bucky nearly fell over. Buck rewarded his effort with a kiss, jumping up to wrap his legs around Steve’s waist, his arms around Steve’s neck. He laughed, falling backward onto the cushioned bench and kissed him back. The, uh, limited nature of his costume forced him to pull back long before he wanted, but Bucky just grinned, kissing Steve’s jaw. 

And who fucking knew Clint could actually tap dance? He tore up the stage, the best Columbia Steve had ever seen. The lighting changed, and just for a second, so did Clint’s expression. His sparkle and pizzaz shifted to sharpness and cunning, his eyes locked beyond the audience, though his body language and grin never wavered. He shrugged it off until it happened again, but as he opened his mouth, the stage show came to a halt.

“Wonder what’s going on,” Bucky said, pausing in his worship of Steve’s neck. 

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin when Clint appeared beside them. How did he keep doing that? “Turns out our Rocky is, uh, a little brought down.”

“What have you done with him?” Bucky asked, brow quirked.

“Nothing. Why?” Clint leaned in, eyes darting. “Do you think I should?”

Steve laughed. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

One of the other actors, still near the stage, gestured toward Steve. “What about that Rocky?”

“What _about_ that Rocky?” Clint whispered, devious.

Steve’s eyes widened, the lovely static-y buzz in his blood suddenly gone. “No. Clint, no.”

“It’d be fun,” he needled. “But I understand acting is a rather _tender_ subject.”

The other cast members had noticed and started heading his way. Panic hit him hard, propelling Steve up and out of his chair before he could give it a second thought.

*

The panic attack had barely ended when Steve heard the bathroom door open and the click of heels on tile. For one horrible moment, he imagined Clint had gone after him, but a soft touch to the stall door and Bucky’s voice brought such relief, Steve thought he might break down.

“Stevie? Are you okay?”

“I’m not going on stage, Buck.”

“No one’s makin’ you. They roped one of their own guys into doing it. C’mon, baby, you’re missing the rest of the show.”

“I don’t want to,” Steve said, crossing his arms.

“All right. Well, can I come in, then? S’kinda awkward talking to a door.” Steve reached over and undid the latch. Buck squeezed himself through. “You didn’t have to run, you know.”

Steve glowered. “I know the look the two of you get when you wanna talk me into something I don’t wanna do,” he said. It’d been the same damn look he’d seen in their apartment, and again after the four of them had cornered him.

“Steve, you know I’d never make you do anything you didn’t want to,” Bucky said, placing his hands at Steve’s shoulders.

“Like that time you didn’t make me ride the Cyclone?”

“I should have known better, yeah.”

“Like that _other_ time you didn’t make me ride the Cyclone?”

Bucky bowed his head. “Yeah, fine, you’re right, yes. That was my fault, I’m a jerk, I get it. I’m sorry.” He cupped Steve’s jaw, worry etched over his face. “Stevie, I know you’re having a hard time.”

“M’fine, Buck.”

“The hell you are. Never could lie to me, punk. Out with it.”

Steve rolled his eyes, exasperated. “It’s so easy for you. You and Clint do whatever you want and to hell with what anyone thinks, but me? I dunno how, Buck. I don’t fit in, I don’t belong, I don’t know who I am or what I’m supposed to do.” He slumped against the wall. “I’m just an outsider, Buck.”

“You’re a goddamn meatball,” Bucky said. He pulled Steve to him, staring into him and leaving no room of nonsense. Steve wanted to drown in those beauty stormy eyes. “You know damn well who you are, Steve. You’ve always known, even if you didn’t know how to say it.”

Steve shook his head, leaning into Bucky’s touch. “I spent so long being weak, wondering if I’d get the chance to figure myself out, and then suddenly I was Captain America and being made into what they wanted me to be.”

“I know, pal. But in the end, you told them to shove it, right? That was all you, and I know who you are to me. My firecracker, my spitfuck, my reckless, precious, never-knowing-when-to-back-down-from-a-fight sonova bitch.”

Bucky’s hands slipped behind Steve’s neck and he leaned in to run his lips across Steve’s cheekbone. “My savior.” The softest kiss, trailing lower. “My hero.” He kissed the corner of Steve’s mouth. “My champion.” Another kiss, to the opposite corner. “My heart, my soul, my everything.”

Steve captured Bucky’s lips, longing to taste those words, the love and everything Bucky poured into him, gifted him, granted him. Bucky’s lips parted, inviting him in. He tasted better than the sweet shots they’d had at the bar, better than anything Steve imagined. Bucky kissed him breathless and then some, only leaving the promise of teeth and tongue to bite at Steve’s neck, leaving sloppy bruises and lipstick stains.

Teeth gazed over Steve’s collarbone, Bucky’s hands ghosting down his chest and over his sides, resting on his hips as Bucky sank to his knees. Steve opened his eyes in time to watch Buck bite at his gloves, pulling them off and tossing them to the floor. He curled his bared fingers under the waistband of Steve’s shorts but didn’t remove then. Instead, he nuzzled at the hard line of Steve’s cock. The costume left nothing to the imagination.

Tipping his head back against the stall, Steve carded his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “More, more, more,” he groaned.

Hot breath caressed his skin as Bucky laughed low. “You wanna be dirty, babydoll?” Steve nodded, rolling his hips forward. “So fucking greedy. You gonna tell me what you want?”

Steve felt his whole body blush, warmth spreading down his chest and up his neck. He licked his lips. “Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me.”

Bucky laughed again, mouthing the words against Steve’s length. “Yeah, but _how_ do you want it? You want me to toucha-toucha-touch you, you gotta say it.”

Another moan escaped him. Steve bit his lip. He didn’t have the edge for dirty talk Bucky did, but goddamn, if there was ever a time. “I want you to wrap those plush lips around my dick and suck me until I come apart.”

Steve knew he’d said exactly the right thing when Bucky stripped him, ripping the costume in the process. He flatted his tongue against the underside of Steve’s cock, licking up and barely pressing his lips against the head. Another series of torturous kisses and kitten-licks had Steve panting, so hard he ached, but Buck seemed content to tease him. Steve growled Bucky’s name, and in response (or retaliation), Bucky allowed only the tip into his mouth. 

He tightened his grip on Bucky’s hair. Bucky looked up at Steve, letting Steve’s hard-on linger at his lower lip, shiny and slick. That sight alone nearly undid him. His voice came rough and breathless. “I didn’t say tease, Buck.”

A feral grin curled Bucky’s lips. “There’s no crime in giving yourself over to pleasure. But considering how much I teased you at the bar, I suppose you’ve waited long enough.”

Steve’s knees nearly buckled when Bucky took him fully into the warm, wet heat of his mouth, metal hand holding his hip and his right hand worked him over. It wouldn’t take much to send him over the edge, pleasure pooling in his belly, fanning out along his nerves. Bucky gazed up at him, those thick, sinful lashing framing eye dark with want. Steve’s head fell back, his blood, his skin electrified, filled with want and need and lust, his heart pounding, too full of love and desire, and Steve begged for Bucky to take him apart, but he wondered if all his seams would unravel instead. 

In the end, he did what Bucky asked: he let go. His orgasm rocked through him, smothering his doubt, his apprehension, everything except the man he loved, who miraculously, unerringly loved him back. Who reminded Steve who he was every goddamn day without fail.

When Steve came back to himself, the first thing he felt was Bucky’s heartbeat against his own, the warmth of the body wrapped around his, the arms that held him up, held him together, held him close, and precious, and dear. He sighed against Bucky’s skin, breath still shaking, and pressed a kiss below his jaw.

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful,” Steve panted, his strength slowly returning. “But now I really am naked and I can’t walk out of here like this.”

Bucky snorted, pressing a kiss to Steve’s hair. “Like I left the other pair of shorts at home.” He pulled the second costume out of his . . . well, from under his surgical gown. “Get dressed, creature of the night.” And with that, he slipped out of the stall. A second later, Steve heard the sink running. 

He cleaned himself up and changed into the backup shorts, still flushed as he joined his lover at the sinks. Bucky tried in vain to salvage his makeup, the mascara and eyeliner running and his lipstick smeared beyond repair. Upon glancing in his own mirror, Steve realized the majority of Bucky’s lipstick covered his neck. Wiping at it with a damp paper towel only revealed the bruising.

“Oh, shit,” Steve said.

Bucky dabbed at the corners of his mouth, tossed the paper towel away, and grabbed Steve’s hand. “Ain’t like they don’t know we fuck, babydoll. C’mon, we can still catch the end of the show.”

Steve let Buck drag him out of the bathrooms and out onto the dance floor, only a handful of people giving them a second look. Clint smirked at them from the stage, parading around with his feather boa while doing high kicks. Steve really was impressed, but he didn’t have time to contemplate _why_ Clint was, well, doing any of this in the first place. Bucky grabbed him by the waist, rocking them both to the beat.

“The only thing that gives me hope is my love of a certain dope,” Bucky crooned, earning a glare from Clint. “Rose tints my world, keeps me safe from my trouble and pain.”

Natasha and Sam swung by them as the tempo picked up. Judging by Sam’s complete avoidance of looking at Steve and Natasha’s grin, yeah, they knew. 

“You wild and untamed things,” she teased, arching a brow at Steve’s neck. Steve flushed.

“Buck, I think I’m gonna sit this next one out,” Steve said.

Bucky frowned, but nodded in understanding. “Okay. It’s been a long night, I know. You don’t like dancing in public, either. C’mon, we’ll go back to the VIP whatever.”

Steve shook his head. “You can keep dancing, Buck. I know you love it. I’m just need to recharge.” He couldn’t say Bucky looked entirely convinced, but he reached for Natasha and kept moving to the music. Watching Bucky enjoy himself was a gift Steve would never tire of. 

He picked his way back through the crowd, trying to figure out which way needed to go. The crowds thinned, but the music grew louder and he didn’t see the lounge. Aw, hell, he’d wandered backstage. Steve turned to head the other way when he caught movement from the corner of his eye.  
Clint, makeup running, shoved a redheaded man in a suit back into wall, his hand splayed on the other man’s chest. Steve blinked. Clint bared his teeth, getting in the man’s face.

“And you stay the fuck away,” he growled.

Whatever the redhead replied, Steve didn’t catch. Clint jerked him by the collar, turned him, and shoved him the other way, toward the opposite end of the stage. A badge fell out of the man’s pocket; Clint scooped it up, pushing it into the man’s hand as he turned back. Steve moved away, eventually finding the lounge, now occupied by Buck, Sam, and Nat. 

Sam had his face in his hands. “I can’t keep up with y’all. Too extreme.”

“Stevie, what’s wrong?” Buck asked, opening his arms.

Steve sat beside him, letting Buck hold him close. He felt less exposed and vulnerable with him near. “I got turned around and saw Clint backstage. I guess some guy pissed him off or something?”

Bucky and Natasha exchanged a glance.

“I saw him go back after Columbia’s last scene. I thought he getting cleaned up,” Natasha said.

“I’m sure whatever it was, he handled it,” Buck added.

Steve frowned. “I’ve never seen him like that though. He’s not usually angry.”

“Yeah, well, creeps usually don’t hit on the women,” Clint said. “One of the actors was having a problem with that guy. She asked me to scope out the situation and shut him down.” He flopped down beside Natasha, dropping his head onto her shoulder. “Was fun, though. Miss my stage days.”

“Is that why you dressed us up, too?”

Clint smiled at Sam, his endless enthusiasm running out. “Couldn’t leave my friends out. Bouncer is an old circus buddy. Knew I could perform, asked for a favor. Stoppin’ creepers was a bonus.”

Steve hummed. “Well, that’s good. Buck would be super jealous if he knew you were backstage with some redhead dressed as a federal agent in a cheap suit. Ow!” He rubbed his arm, returning Bucky’s glare. “Jerk.”

“Punk.”

Nat reached up and tapped her fingers against Clint’s hair. He inclined his head, pulling his top hat into his lap. “Coffee?” she offered.

“Oh god yes,” Clint moaned.

Bucky pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Coffee, or you wanna head home?”

Looking at his friends, their smeared makeup and wilted costumes, Steve smiled. He knew he looked wrecked, but to hell with it: he’d had fun. “Yeah, Buck. Coffee sounds great.”


	3. Chapter 3

They almost didn’t let him in. Something about not wearing a shirt and Steve was sure the rain hadn’t help (everyone looked worse for wear), but Clint practically growled and since no one else was in the store, they let him slide. Bucky ordered for them both, and Clint basically dozed in Natasha’s lap until the barista called his name. Bucky scooped up his coffee, too, and carried them to the back table they’d taken as their own.

“Let him go, Natalia,” Bucky said, sitting on Clint’s other side. Clint sat up and immediately collapsed onto Bucky instead. Steve chuckled. “Come on, bro. Wakey, wakey.”

Steve wrapped his hands around his own coffee, breathing in the scent as he watched his friends. An errant elbow nudged him, and Steve turned his focus to Sam.

“Hey, man,” Sam said, a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. “You did good.”

He smiled back. He’d intended to say something when Clint sat up, spit out his drink, and rounded on Bucky, once again on high drama.

“I take you out for a fantastic evening of costumed shenanigans,” he said, truly scandalized, “and this is the thanks I get? You try to _poison_ me?”

Bucky cackled, and Steve noticed one of those weird speciality drinks in front of him, the bright green whatever mixing with the brow, turning it a nasty color. Foamy, pink whip covered the top. Steve cringed. Ew. “Trick or treat,” Bucky offered, laughing so hard, tears spilled from his eyes.

Clint snatched his coffee—his rightful coffee—away from his best friend. “Yeah, well, that lipstick isn’t your shade.”

“Am I even wearing lipstick at this point?”

Clint stood, kicked Bucky in the thigh, and prompted Marched over to sit beside Steve. Clint draped himself over him, snuggling close. “Pfft, who needs Frank, anyway?” 

“Aw, Clint, no,” Bucky whined. The running makeup really killed the doe-eye innocent look he was going for. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t futzing fuck with coffee, Barnes.”

Steve chuckled, reaching up to pet Clint’s hair. Bucky glowered.

Sam stood, tossing his stringy wig at Clint. “It’s six in the morning, guys. I’m out.”

“Aw, c’mon, not for very much longer,” Natasha said, letting the Russian seep into her voice.

He failed to hide his grin. “Y’all are mad. I’m going home.” Sam raised his hand in goodbye, stopping to stuff a couple dollars in the cafe’s tip jar.

Bucky took the opportunity to slide into Sam’s place, nuzzling against Steve. “Mine,” he said, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek.

Clint arched a brow. “Which one of us?”

Steve flushed. “I, uh, think that answer’s pretty obvious, Clint.”

The other blond looked up. “Well, yeah, but I didn’t wanna hurt your feelings, Steve.” Clint smushed his face against Steve’s other cheek, less a kiss and more falling over him in exhaustion.

So this was what it was like being Bucky, he thought, ruffling Clint’s hair. Clint tapped his coffee cup against Steve’s and a took a sip. Steve blinked; Clint’s knuckles were raw and red. “What happened?”

Clint sat up fully, giving Steve a clear view of the bruise showing beneath Clint’s worn makeup. “Scuffle with that redheaded dude. I stood up for my friend and that loser thought he could take me cause I was in heels.” He shrugged. “I won though. And I looked damn good.”

“You did,” Nat said, gently pulling Clint to his feet. “You need coffee and some actual sleep. You can see you boys tomorrow.”

Bucky blew Clint a kiss, which he caught, considered, and stuff into his corset. Steve snorted. Bucky elbowed him. “Dobroy nochi, Natalia.”

“Spokoynoy nochi,” she answered.

“Guess we should head home, too,” Bucky said. “These heels are killing me.”

“I got the good costume after all,” Steve said. He wouldn’t argue with a long hot shower followed by a day spent in bed with his best guy. They still had a bowl of Halloween candy sitting on the coffee table.

“Still think it looks better tossed on the floor,” Bucky whispered, breath hot against the shell of Steve’s ear. He shivered. “You forgot the most import thing about the show, babydoll.”

“What’s that?”

Bucky grinned, lacing his fingers with Steve’s and leading him home. “It’s a double-feature.”

Steve laughed, full and free and only slightly embarrassed. They couldn’t get home fast enough.

Turns out, Bucky was damn good at running in heels, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. I wrote this in two days and it's painfully under-edited, but damn was it fun.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed that and have a happy and safe Halloween! Trick or treat, my darlings!
> 
> xo. Lizzie


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